He came into the room warily, keeping his eyes studiously away from her. He could almost see her annoyance jutting out from her body like spikes. He wondered what was wrong now, and guiltily assumed it was probably something he'd done.
She felt him come into the room. He was keeping his distance, probably keeping his eyes averted as though she were some wild animal he didn't want to disturb. She hated that. It made her feel as though she were some rabid animal. It made her want to bite him. She tried to keep an angry glare off her face.
He knew that look. She was pretty pissed. He wondered what it was this time. He was pretty sure that he'd cleaned up the coffee he's spilled this morning. Had he kissed everyone goodbye? He knew she didn't like it when he forgot because he didn't see them before bed sometimes. He didn't like it either. He was especially late today, but there had been traffic, it wasn't really his fault. He tried to read her face.
God! Why is he staring at me like that?! She shifted on the couch, and he jumped as though startled. He still hasn't said hello. The kids had been animals all day. She hadn't been able to take a single minute for herself. She'd yelled. She hated it when she yelled. It made her feel less human.
He needed to fix this. It was almost definitely his fault, and he needed to fix this.
"How was your day?"
"Yeah. Mine too."
"They're in bed?"
"Over half an hour ago."
"Oh. I'm sorry. There was traffic."
"Would you ..."
"Could you make ..."
"I was going to ask if you'd like some tea."
"Yes. Thank you. I'd really love some."
They sat together, blowing over their steaming cups.
She felt cared for.
He felt like he'd fixed it.